Hapless

I am on a love tirade. How can someone so consumed with something be so inept at it? There was little story clip today on NPR today narrated by a woman about her friend's search for love...this friend had breast cancer and when she would worry about not finding anyone the narrator would actually think: "yeah, she may never find someone." I have thought I was like the single friend (but without a life-threatening disease). By the way, the single friend's story ended up happily. What were my reasons: I wasn't pretty, I was not attractive enough, I wasn't smart enough, I was too boring, too dull, not gregarious enough, not happy enough, too fat, not nice enough, not ambitious enough, too odd, bad skin, too lazy and the list goes on....

When going on dates all these lists of things would berate me and I would feel sorry for the guy I was on the date with and with a sense of relief set him on his way to finding someone better. Dating for me is being exposed and vulnerable to all my fears all at once. Am I good enough? Are my looks tolerable? Do I have enough to offer someone else? Can I meet their expectations? How much will I disappoint them? Can I keep them entertained and interested? And I hate giving anyone the power to judge me and for me to care about their judgment. It was torture because I was so focused on what was wrong or potentially wrong with me and trying to foresee what would be the reason for the inevitable rejection (and honestly feeling better when it happened the rejection happened because I could go back to not being scrutinized).

I also got the sense that the person I was on a date with could take or leave me...they were dating to date rather than out of interest in me specifically. Actually I am not certain when anyone has been interested in me in particular....

There was quote from A Caribbean Mystery, a Miss Marple mystery by Agatha Christie I recently read that struck a chord with me:

“Miss Marple sighed, a sigh that any woman will give however old at what might be considered wasted opportunities. What was lacking in Esther had been called by so many names during Miss Marple’s span of existence. ‘Not really attractive to men.’ ‘No S.A.’ ‘Lacks come-hither in her eye.’ Fair hair, good complexion, hazel, quite a good figure, pleasant smile, but lacking that something that makes a man’s head turn when he passes a woman in the street.”

Why is something that is so basic for so many, so damned complicated and hard for me? Any and all advice would be welcomed to help this hopeless, hapless dabbler!